


Das Feuer Liebt Mich (Nicht)

by Neila_Nuruodo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, But at the bottom of the box was hope, Gen, Self-Sacrifice, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26105611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo
Summary: That Light split the world, and every life upon it.  How could life have even survived the Sundering?Perhaps She was always a goddess of death.  Perhaps Fate, at the moment of fulgent destruction, followed the strands of the weave and found only one unbroken thread.Of course the world must take such a course, then.  For your joys can only fill you as deeply as your sorrows have carved you.
Kudos: 8





	Das Feuer Liebt Mich (Nicht)

**Author's Note:**

> This has elements incorporated from 5.3, but unless the reader already has knowledge of the events of that patch they will not spoil anything (hence why I have not tagged it as such.) If you're still worried, though, you might wait to read until you have finished the new content.

A concept matrix standing at the center of the room—appropriated, from those who both had no further need of it and who could no longer be trusted to steer the star's course aright. Within it slept limitless possibility, a blueprint for a creation of boundless potential and power.

Within it slept a god.

A mental image, carefully constructed and held. For, after all, it would do this group no good to simply summon a duplicate of the creation that supped upon the lifeblood of their people. Nay, this one must have key differences from the original.

This god, unlike the last, would prove a final solution to the lingering issues plaguing the star in the wake of the Final Days.

Silence, lingering in the corners of the room, whispering around the crevices of the sealed door. Nothing remained to be said; the first supplicant approached, stretched out her hands. After a moment she began to waver, her physical form glimmering to shining aether. Venat took hold of it with an unsteady breath. The power, fueled and magnified by life energy, settled like a heavy mantle upon her shoulders. She stepped forward and placed her hands upon the creation matrix.

Light, swelling within the complex lattice of crystal—at first merely a brightening, a glow, but quickly kindling an incandescent gold flame too brilliant to look at comfortably. Another supplicant approached, rendered up his all, entrusted it unto Venat. This, too, fed the gestating goddess. And another.

The light soon became so bright she could see it outlined distinctly even through closed eyes.

Solitude, as the last of those fully dedicated to their path gave herself over to fuel the nascent creation. So much power… so incredibly much… and yet, next to Zodiark, it was still so paltry.

There was naught for it. She would have to make do. She focused upon her mind's image, upon the divisive feeling that split her heart, her very being, and called the goddess forth from the crystal, wrapping Her form about her own.

Certitude, crystalizing through her veins, encrusting her neurons, transubstantiating Her—yes. She was become righteousness, truth, the path to the future.

Within, a tiny voice cried out, wailing confusion, begging to understand. This was not the plan, it wept. The goddess was to be at _her_ command, a tool, not ascendant.

With a beatific smile, She pressed the fragment of will into silence, overwriting it with holy power. Her purpose must be fulfilled—Darkness chained, His power broken—and whatever plans this fragment had must needs be set aside. Naught else mattered.

In the distance, the Dark One stirred. He could not fail to sense Her ascent, of course. Nor could He fail to respond to Her presence. No more than She could to His. And so the battle was joined.

Trailing spirals of power, twining higher and higher into the sky. The fury of their passage ignited all that lay too close—forests, buildings, the air itself. The heavens wept fire upon the land, and lamentation arose to answer it.

If that tiny voice continued to plead for understanding, for charge over their actions, it was a simple enough thing to pay it no heed.

Victory's precipice, an opening in Her opponent's defenses. She gathered Her power…

And struck.

Her blow peeled Him apart, unraveling Him into pieces, Her power a wedge separating His shattered fragments such that naught would reunite them, not so long as Her strength lasted. The shockwave rippled outward

…wait

Creation itself _screamed,_ howling unnatural agony as the indivisible was _sundered,_ impossibly, cloven and separated, raw wounds seeping pure power, the anathema of life

**_Stop!_ **

The blow was rendered; there was no calling it back. She _howled_ as She felt even Herself divided, tasting Her own power and finding the draught bitter—nay, the word was insufficient. It was death, and She felt everything begin to die, shorn souls, carved and split, no longer able to sustain their own existence. The voice within was _shrieking,_ gibbering fury and black righteousness and hurt incomprehension.

_This_ had never been Hher intention. But like a child playing with matches, Sshe had been so enchanted by the flame Sshe had neglected to heed the danger.

Death settled over the star, a funeral shroud, and each fragment of Her felt as each fragment of the star faded, cooling like a fresh corpse. As Zodiark's lifesblood ebbed, as did the star's, as did every life that depended upon Him, as did, in the chain's final link, Her own, She took comfort that Her mission would be fulfilled. And though the cost be more dear than She could bear…

She would not live long to feel it.

  
  
  


True gold, blue-gold, burst upon Her vision, of such purity and clarity and brilliance as to make Her own look wan and washed out beside it.

What was this?

It wound about Zodiark, binding and encasing Him, sealing Him away but also sustaining Him. Rebirthing Him. It wound about the star, causing the ebbing waters of its truest self to rise once more, to buoy up each fading soul before it could gasp its last. It enfolded those strands newly severed by their great battle and then cloven before they might make their underworld journey, igniting their wings with flame and causing them to soar up like eagles, ready to descend once more upon the land at need.

And, too, it wound about Her own being, drawing Her into the waters, healing and sustaining Her own faltering existence. She cried out as She suddenly began to resonate, to _connect_ with the aetherial sea; gasping, She reached out new, glimmering appendages, gifted power. But whence did this come?

The star before Her finally began to fade, the sheer magnitude of its exertions burning it to a dim, faded orange.

_Hydaelyn._

She forgot for a moment Her newfound power at the ringing of Her name in that voice.

_It hath demanded much and more of me to halt the end. Now thou must needs sustain what I have wrought until I may once again gather my strength to act. In the fullness of time, at the appointed hour, shall I return, and set all once more to right._

Shame, welling up like poison to flood Her heart. "I am sorry. Unspeakably so. In my ignorance…"

The song shifted to ply soothing forgiveness upon Her. _I know, my child. Go forth, and sin no more._ The song began to fade, the bright orb folding in on itself to preserve what remained. _Stay strong. Keep the faith. Someday, this too shall pass..._

And as its bright point faded to nothing did the weight of the world fall down upon Her. But, for the second chance that She—that all Creation—had been given, She would find a way to bear this weight. She _would._ She must.


End file.
